


Couldn't Help Myself

by ButWhatIfImagines



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButWhatIfImagines/pseuds/ButWhatIfImagines
Summary: It was fine. You were both adults, just sharing a bed. Sure, you’d kissed a few times, but that was no big deal.It was fine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick-and-dirty idea about bed-sharing that I had between Jesse and a female Reader who are still in the earlier stages of their relationship. Originally posted to our Overwatch imagines blog on tumblr.

_This is fine_ , he assured himself, lying on his side next to you in bed. He remembered when the mission first started, and you’d found out the two of you would be sharing a room, _and_ a bed.

He’d offered to take the floor, or to rotate nights, if you were feeling civil.

“Why?” You had seemed perplexed, and almost annoyed. “We can both sleep in the bed.”

“I don’t want you bein’ uncomfortable,” he’d mumbled, remembering a distinct feeling of being sheepish.

You had laughed. “It’s no big deal. I trust you, Jesse, so I don’t mind sharing the bed with you. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to make you sleep on the floor.”

You’d been very cavalier about it, and you were right—it wasn’t fair to make either one of you sleep on the floor when the room came with a queen bed.

But feelings got in the way, sometimes. Or if they didn’t get in the way, they certainly made it fuzzy. He liked sharing the bed with you, but there was more he wanted than just sleeping next to you.

It was fine. It wasn’t his place to ask or to assume. You had kissed a few times, and his hand had been down your pants before, but that didn’t mean anything. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

It was fine.

It was fine, but it also wasn’t fine.

Tonight, you had scooted closer, your back touching his. “I hope you don’t mind,” you’d mumbled. “I just like knowing you’re here.”

“Not at all, sweet pea.” And he hadn’t been lying—he didn’t mind. What he minded was the tingling sensation where his skin touched yours. What he minded was the knot in his stomach, his feelings tied up like a gnarled root. What he _minded_ was the heat that pooled in his core, and the blood that rushed between his legs.

Okay, maybe he _did_ mind, but he wasn’t about to say no—not when he liked you that much.

_It was fine._

He glanced over his shoulder, watching the slow rise and fall of your shoulders. You were asleep. Neon lights flickered outside, trickling in through thin curtains. The room was mostly dark, but for that flickering pink glow.

He palmed over the shape of his erection in his boxers, and tried not to squirm. He could do this. He could be quiet. He’d done it before.

_I could also just go to the bathroom._ But then you’d know. You’d wake up when he got out of bed. He argued back and forth with himself for a few more seconds, but by the time he’d stopped, he had already pushed his boxers down enough to expose himself. He licked his palm and curled his hand around his girth, and began to move.

He closed his eyes—his mind’s eye was a much nicer place than the dingy hotel room. It was comfortable and warm, and you were there, wrapped around his back. One arm, curled beneath him, stroked along the column of his throat, and the other stroked his cock.

He knew it was his own hand, but it was easy to pretend it was yours. You were slow, and knew all the right ways to touch him—of course you did, it was _his_ imagination, after all.

Your fingers curled around the base, stroking a few times before you squeezed gently on the tip, gathering the precome and swiping it back down. He got lost in the imagined bliss of your touch, urging himself towards a hasty release—you _were_ sleeping right next to him, after all. No sense in drawing this out.

He gasped and went rigid. “Thought you were sneaky, huh, cowboy?” That was most definitely not in his mind’s eye. Eyes wide and cheeks hot, he glanced back at you.

You were curled up against his back, one hand drifting down his side, and your face plastered with the most smug expression he ever remembered seeing on you. How had you snuck up on him like that? Must be taking lessons from the damn ninja.

Leaning in a little closer, you put a kiss behind his ear, nipping at the lobe. “Want some help with that? Or should I leave you to your pretty fantasies?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Want to request some more to the imagine you done with Jesse in bed with his crush!_
> 
> Cross-posted to our Overwatch imagines blog on tumblr.

He stared forward for a long moment, debating your offer. Well, realistically you were offering because you wanted to. And he wanted you to, too.

He swallowed as he tried to calm his nerves, but his voice still came out reedy. “Yes, please.”

“Well, now,” you cooed, your fingers delicately brushing along the underside of his length. “You asked so nicely. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—you _are_ quite the gentleman.”

He flustered at your words, squirming at the barely-there contact of your fingers nudging against him. “I try,” he mumbled, and your smile grew just a little wicked.

“Well… I did say I’d help you, and you’ve been such a good boy—” You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched at that, and licked your lips. “What should I do for you, hm?” Your hand curled around him and stroked slowly, your thumb brushing over his slit. He choked on his breath, hips bucking against your touch—oh, he must have been close when you interrupted.

With a sly smile, you eased him over into his back, glancing down at the thick length where it rested against his belly. Wrapping your fingers around him again, you stroked slowly, leaning down to press slow, teasing kisses against his belly.

“What do you think, cowboy?” He stiffened under you, propped up on his elbows. “What do you want?”

He watched you intently for a long minute, then swallowed thickly. Brushing his thumb over your lips, he caught your chin to draw you in for a slow kiss. “Like this would be nice,” he murmured. “If you don’t mind…”

He sounded so sweet, like he wanted to kiss you as much as he wanted you to get him off. You smiled as you kissed him, resuming your slow strokes, and he groaned into your mouth. A string of hastily-babbled praise fell from his lips as your tempo slowly increased, and you squeezed your thighs together, trying to alleviate the pressure on your clit. Heat flared between your legs every time he moaned or grunted or begged you to keep going, and you knew damn well you wouldn’t last a hot minute if he touched you.

He tried, but you batted his hands away—“Not tonight, cowboy,” you chided. “Just let me take care of you.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but you cupped his balls in your free hand, and any resistance evaporated. He threw his head back, hips arching up off the mattress with a breathless groan. He was chasing his release, and you let him, jerking harder and faster with each passing second.

He pulled you close, covering your mouth with his own as he grabbed feverishly at your body—your sides, your hips, your breasts, your ass—anything he could reach. He caressed and groped, trying to please you as deeply as you were pleasing him.

You leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Come for me, Jesse,” you purred. “I know you want to, and you’ve been such a good boy—”

The sound of his groan was inelegant and guttural, and you gasped softly as you felt the heat of his release coating your fingers. Glancing down, you watched it shoot up his belly, reaching as far as his chest. His hips jerked and rolled in your hand as he clung to the mattress beneath him, jaw taut and head thrown back, knuckles white in their grip.

When he finally relaxed, he melted back into the mattress, looking pleasantly boneless as he looked up at you, bleary-eyed and delighted.

“ _Damn_ , you’re really somethin’ else, ain’t you, sweet pea,” he sighed breathlessly, holding your face in his hands as your foreheads pressed together.

You smiled lazily as your fingers danced up his belly, feeling the subtle twitch of his muscles beneath your touch. He watched you with hooded eyes as you slowly licked your fingers clean, and you didn’t miss how his nostrils flared.

“How was it?” You asked, a little sheepish all of a sudden.

Jesse laughed, rubbing his face sleepily. “Better than my fantasies,” he admitted as he sat up. He kissed you again, over and over until you parted with a sigh. “Much better.”

You smiled proudly, and let him scoot off the bed to take care of the mess he’d made. When he was done, he hopped back under the covers with you. Tugging you back against his chest, he let out a soft rumble that was unmistakably delighted. You felt your heart flutter in your chest, and he pressed soft kisses along the slope of your shoulder.

After a moment, his snug grip loosened. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin. “I guess I should’ve asked if you don’t mind me cuddlin’ you—”

“I don’t mind,” you stopped him, patting his hand around your middle. “Actually, I’m… really glad you want to.” Your voice came out soft, empty of the cocky bravado you’d displayed only moments earlier.

Jesse squirmed behind you, and gave you a comforting squeeze as he made another happy noise. “Good,” he whispered, resuming his teasing kisses. You turned to him, and he peppered your face with kisses, which you gladly accepted. He was boneless, and sated, and when he looked at you, you felt warm—he looked so _happy_ to see you. It made you smile, and you kissed him.

“Feel better?” You asked, nuzzling his cheek.

He nodded quickly, grabbing your face to kiss you. It was almost frantic, but still a bit sweet. “Thank you, pumpkin,” he murmured, kissing you over and over. You giggled as you rolled over, putting your arms around his shoulders to pull him in against your chest. He burrowed into your warmth, and you let the soft hum of his voice whispering sweet nothings drift you off into a well-deserved slumber.


End file.
